A New York Minute Remix: Everything Can Change
by Cirocco
Summary: Remix of Tahlia's A New York Minute, POV of Claire Kincaid's husband.


**Author Notes:** Here's the basic idea of a Remix Challenge: take something by another writer and write a companion piece/alternate ending/different point of view/_anything_ inspired by their story.

My story was inspired by "A New York Minute", by Tahlia.  It can be found at

**www dot fanfiction dot net slash s slash 1021756 slash 1 slash A underscore New underscore York underscore Minute**

(Don't forget to get rid of all spaces and change "dot" "slash" and "underscore" to their characters; this site will not allow URLs to be posted as is.)

Tahlia's original story was an AU "what if Claire Kincaid hadn't been killed in the accident at the end of Aftershock".  Common enough idea in L&O fandom, done in a most uncommonly realistic and powerful way.  This is a companion piece, from the POV of Claire's husband.  Title and subtitles taken from the lyrics to A New York Minute by Don Henley.  A million thanks to Cassatt for encouragement and sounding-board-ness ;)

**Everything Can Change**

_What the head makes cloudy_

It's funny how things can turn out sometimes.

I first met Claire six years ago today, at a time in my life when I wasn't looking to meet anybody and was in fact avoiding romantic entanglements.  A good friend of mine, Margot Bell, introduced us to each other at one party, invited us both to another party, and then gently pushed us together.  Said we had a lot in common.  Which was true – we both loved racquetball and running, both liked to travel, both listened to a lot of the same music.

One thing intrigued me.  "Be careful with her, Steve," Margot said at the second party, when I finally gave in to her teasing and agreed to ask her very attractive friend out to dinner.

"Why?"

"She's… she's been through a lot in the last year.  Just… be careful with her."

I wanted to ask details, but then another guest came up and interrupted us and I never did find out what she meant.

It bothered me at first.  Like I said, I was avoiding romance; I'd recently broken up with Wendy Roy, a terribly needy, clingy and high-maintenance woman.  I didn't particularly want a repetition of that, at a time when I wanted to concentrate on furthering my career as a financial planner.

No repetition.  Claire didn't seem to be harbouring any Dark Issues, Margot's warning aside.  Our first date was at a pizza place – which doesn't sound terribly romantic, but this was Papa Gepetto's, very nice pizza.  Claire was interesting, animated, had a good sense of humour, and could debate politics better than anyone I knew.  A very intellectually stimulating woman.  And yes, I'll admit, very stimulating in other ways too.

As we got to know each other, I found out Claire had left her job a few months before, and I wondered if that was what Margot had meant.  Maybe Claire had left her old firm over some bad feelings.  I know how ugly office politics can get.  Claire didn't seem terribly torn up about it though, and she was quite happy with her new job at Margot's firm.  Margot's firm does a sort of hodge-podge of law; Margot herself is a defense lawyer, as are two other partners, but there's also a thriving family law section and a new mediation section, where Claire worked.  Mediating family breakups, wrongful dismissal cases, all sorts of conflicts.  She was very enthusiastic about it.

It wasn't until months later that I realized Margot had probably been referring to both the job loss and a car accident Claire had been in that year, although Claire didn't really say much about that either.  In fact, it only came up about four months after we'd started dating, when I mentioned that one of my coworkers had recently lost her license for DWI.  I was somewhat irritated that instead of car-pooling as we had before Lana's suspension, I now drove us to work every day and she just chipped in for gas.

I suppose I was making light of the subject, though I didn't mean to – I was just blowing off steam.  Anyway, Claire slowly stopped making the normal social noises – you know, Uh-huh, That's too bad, etc, until I finally clued in to her silence and asked her what was wrong.

"I feel strongly about drunk driving, Steve," she said quietly.

The way she said it tipped me off that this wasn't a casual topic of conversation for her.  I paused before carefully asking, "Did somebody you know get hurt by a drunk driver?"

"Yes," she replied in the same quiet tone.  "Me.  Earlier this year.  A drunk driver crashed into me and if I'd been leaning forward instead of back at the moment of impact, the crash would have snapped my neck."

I was somewhat chilled by this, and stammered some sort of apology and explanation – wait, I'm not saying the suspension was wrong, I'm just bothered that I'll have to drive – I mean, I completely agree that Lana should have her license suspended –

Claire took pity on me, I guess, and laughed and changed the subject.  No hard feelings, she said with her voice and her eyes, and I breathed a silent sigh of relief.  Things were going very well for us at the time, and I was glad I hadn't put a dent in our very new relationship with my remarks.  I also really hoped she wouldn't hold my gaffe against me and throw it in my face the next time we disagreed.

Now I know better.  Claire is no Wendy, who could take the most innocent casual remark and turn it into a major months-long drama of hurt feelings and apologies.  When I say something Claire doesn't agree with, she says so.  And she doesn't make a big deal out of it.  And when an argument is over, it's over.

I didn't realize until later that at the time of that drunk driving discussion, I was already thinking of 'the next time we disagreed' – like we were becoming an established couple who could have disagreements, and get past them, because that's what couples do.

So that was Claire, when we first met.  A vague warning about a dark past that boiled down to an accident that left her with a small scar and a hard-line attitude against drunk drivers, and a job change that left her at a fairly nice firm with, I gathered, somewhat higher pay than her previous job.

I decided Margot had been a little overly dramatic.  Perhaps she thought that because of Wendy, or because of my Italian background, I would naturally be attracted by drama and intrigue.  Not a chance.  Wendy was my one adventure in that direction, and my last.

_The heart makes very clear_

In fact, Claire was everything Wendy wasn't: positive, confident, straightforward, not weighted down by Issues.  The one thing that intrigued me was that she didn't talk much about her life before coming to work at Margot's.  Not that she was a mysterious lady with no past – she's not in Witness Protection or anything – but there were odd blank spots and omissions in her history.

I clued in to this when I found out she'd been a criminal lawyer.  You'd think most people would want to talk about that – I've seen Perry Mason, I know criminal law can be full of all sorts of interesting stories – but as far as I knew, Claire was a mediator and always had been.  I only found out she used to be a criminal lawyer by accident.

I can still remember that pretty clearly, so I guess it made an impression.  Claire was talking animatedly about a movie we'd just seen (Jerry MacGuire, by the way) when she suddenly petered off.  Staring at something with an odd look on her face.  I looked and saw two men walking across the street towards us, engrossed in conversation.

"Fifty miles on the LIE on a weeknight? That's pushing it," the younger one said.

"Yeah, if you drive like an old lady," the older one replied with a chuckle.  They were almost past us when the older one noticed us and did a double take.

"Claire?"

"Hi, Lennie," she said warmly.

The younger man stopped too, a look of surprise on his face.

"How are you?" asked the older man.

"Good, good, yourself?"

"Not too bad."

Murmured social noises with the younger man, who glanced from Claire to the older man, and looked at me curiously.  Slight pause.

"Oh – sorry, Lennie, Rey, this is Steve Bartoli."

There was a chorus of Pleased to meet you's.

"So… how have you been?" the older one asked, then remembered he'd already asked that.

"Good."

Awkward silence for a beat, and I stepped in, trying to make casual conversation until we could all say with ease, "Well, it's been fun, we gotta run."  The sudden stop and introductions had already made this too much of an occasion to back out yet.

"So, uh, how do you know each other?"

"I used to work with them," Claire explained, smiling slightly.

"You're lawyers?" I asked, and the older one snorted in amusement.  The younger one looked like he was trying to decide whether to be amused or offended.

"We're cops," he clarified firmly.

"You did mediation for the NYPD?" I asked Claire.

Claire smiled and shook her head.  "I was a prosecutor."

Chit chat for a couple of minutes, then finally it was OK to say We gotta go.  The older one looked at Claire with an expression I couldn't understand, and she touched his arm gently and pushed him on his way.

Which was how I found out she used to practice criminal law.  And I never really found out much else about it.  She'd answer any questions I had ("Did you ever prosecute somebody for murder?") but would change the subject fairly quickly.  I suppose doing that kind of work isn't as much fun as it looks on TV.  I did gather that she worked some pretty horrific crimes, and, now that I think about it, I don't think I'd want to talk about that kind of thing either if I'd been immersed in it.

It does seem so strange, though.  Claire, mediator extraordinaire, prosecuting criminals.  It just doesn't fit with what I know of her.  She's so very good at seeing both sides of an issue, finding creative solutions to interpersonal problems… qualities that are very useful for a mediator, but I would imagine could be a liability for a prosecutor.

_If you find somebody to love in this world_

I knew I wanted to marry Claire about six months after we started dating.  She'd met my parents and I'd met hers, and we all got along.  I was nearing 35, and Mamma was trying not to hint while hinting that I should be settling down and spawning bambinos.  Mamma is sight to behold when she's trying _not_ to be Italian – which is most of the time.

The proposal was at the same pizzeria we went to on our first date.  It sounds corny, but it worked for us.  We'd gradually started to talk more and more about where we were in our lives.  Teasing each other about growing 'old' alone, though neither of us was nearing dotage.  And one day, on impulse, I decided we'd probably danced around it enough and there was no reason to continue the dance.  I invited her to Papa Gepetto's and over entrees, popped the question.  I'd had vague ideas about buying an expensive ring and getting the cooks to hide it under the sun dried tomatoes, but decided against it.  I figured Claire would probably like to pick out her own ring.  Which she did, a beautiful diamond one.  Cost me a fortune, but I like the finer things in life and Claire, finally getting used to her salary at Margot's firm, was getting to appreciate them too.

It's still strange to me that I went from wanting to avoid women in order to concentrate on advancing my career, to wanting to marry Claire, in six short months.  But when I think about it, it's not that strange at all.  Claire didn't take anything away from my career; in fact, she helped it.  I was more centered, more stable, than I had ever been before, and that was reflected in my performance at work.

_You better hang on tooth and nail_

I don't really remember much about our wedding, to tell you the truth.  I know it was huge – about 350 people.  And ever since we saw a certain movie, Claire and I now refer to it as Our Big Fat Italian Wedding.  The details are gone though, and I really couldn't tell you who sat where, or what the invitations looked like.  All I remember is the feeling of absolute rightness that day.  That I'd been waiting for this moment my whole life, without knowing it.  That I was proud to tell the world that I would be by this woman's side for the rest of our lives.  This beautiful, intelligent, idealistic, wonderful woman.  Who, for some reason, was willing to tell the world that she would be by my side for the rest of her life too.  Second happiest day of my life.

_The love of a girl_

Sometimes I think our daughter Emma came along too quickly – she was born 13 months after our wedding.   Sometimes I wish Claire and I had had a chance to travel more, spend more time as a married couple without children.  But then I look at Emma and all of those thoughts fly out the window.

Watching Claire grow lovelier and lovelier as my child grew inside her was amazing.  It's such a cliché to describe a pregnant woman as 'glowing', but Claire really did.  Glowed with health, and happiness, and with… I don't know, a kind of earthy womanliness I hadn't seen before.

Emma's birth… there's no memory of mine that compares to that.  Absolutely nothing, not even Claire's entry into my life.  Watching Claire hold Emma the first time took my breath away.  My wife, my daughter, right there in front of me.  It seemed like a dream.

And holding Emma myself, minutes after she was born, this tiny precious being that had been part of the woman I loved, and was now looking to the two of us to provide for her and protect her and love her…  I'm not a religious person, but I thanked God through my tears for that miracle.  I thank him for it still.

Emma is a miracle to me.  She's also extremely bright – we can tell, even at this early age.  And she's… well, in many ways, she's like a mini-Claire.  Same eyes, same hair colour, same determined mouth.  The difference is that I can be over-protective with Emma, I can spoil her, the way that Claire won't let me protect and spoil her.  Claire's independent and incredibly strong.  Emma needs me.

_And people rush home_

Claire is many things, but I'm afraid stay-at-home mother is not one of them.  Don't misunderstand – she loves Emma deeply, and was very happy with her for the first six months of her maternity leave.  And I know it was hard for her to go back to work part-time and leave Emma at a nursery school, even though most parents in New York would have killed for a spot at Little Tots, which we were able to secure because I'm the director's financial planner.  But some women (I would say most, but then my post-feminist sister Caroline would probably hit me) need something to do with their lives that's more fulfilling than changing diapers.

So Claire went back to mediation work at Margot's firm.  That's where she was working on September 11.

_I hear the sirens wail_

I don't think there's a New Yorker alive who will ever be able to forget what we went through that day.  I know it's burned into the memories of people around the world, but you have to understand, New York is its own little world.  And that world was shattered to pieces that day.  I don't think there's a single New Yorker who didn't know somebody who died that day, at least casually.

For the first few moments, in the unreal panicking slow motion nightmare of realization of what was happening, the first thing that came to my mind was that Claire was supposed to be seeing a client at WTC2.  Moments later I remembered the meeting was actually supposed to happen the next day and Claire had taken the day off to be with Emma, but I'll never forget the heart-stopping dread I felt before I remembered that.

I work in Midtown myself, but I was in the Financial District that day, visiting a client.  Right there for the whole show.  Seeing sights that still return to me in nightmares.  My client and I were two of the people covered in ashes walking out of Manhattan that day.  For hours, we followed the grey crowds, all of us citizens of one of the wealthiest and most powerful cities in the wealthiest and most powerful country in the world, looking like Third World refugees: fearful, dirty, hungry, and exhausted.

And yet when I finally got back home and had a shower and held my wife and daughter in my arms, all I could feel was gratitude to God for allowing me to survive the day and realize just how blessed I was.  I had been shown the face of death, had been shown how suddenly and unexpectedly a life – a world – can end, had been forced to think about what I was doing with my time on this earth.  And had found that I was doing exactly what I was supposed to do.  How many people can say that?

_Everything can change_

Apparently, Claire couldn't.  Much as she enjoyed mediation, a few months after 9/11 she decided to branch out into the criminal defense section of the firm, to get back to court.  Which threw me for a complete loop.  Actually, when she mentioned she wanted to go back to court I thought she meant prosecuting, and I was a little worried – we do have certain financial commitments, after all, and from what I know of a prosecutor's salary, it wouldn't quite compare to her salary at Margot's.  Thankfully, Claire didn't want to return to the DA's office; she just wanted to return to court.

I would've thought there would be a big difference between prosecuting and defending, but Claire says it's all the same and she's quite happy where she is.  She said some of her former colleagues wouldn't agree with that, but apparently quite a few defense lawyers were once prosecutors, and vice versa.

I'm glad she's gone back to court; she's happy with her work, and that's reflected in our life together.  I think it helps that she doesn't usually defend murderers.  She defends some corporate tax evaders to rake in big bucks, does some welfare fraud pro-bono, that kind of thing.  Which is good; I don't particularly want my beautiful wife hanging out with violent men who just might decide to come visit our home and take revenge on her if she doesn't defend them to their satisfaction.

She's not locking herself into tax evasion and welfare fraud, though.  She's keeping her options open.  As a matter of fact, she ended up trying a murder case against her former boss, Jack McCoy, a few weeks ago.  I'd never heard of the man, but apparently he's a big hotshot in the DA's office, and she worked with him for three years as his assistant.  You recall what I said about blank spots in her history?

Anyway, she went to court against him and it went fairly well.  It seems funny that there wouldn't be some sort of animosity between lawyers on opposing sides of a case, but Claire informs me that collegiality is the norm.  McCoy and his assistant even took her out to lunch before the case started, and she's met them for dinner a few times since then.  It's probably fun for her to reminisce about the old days when she was on their side of the aisle, now that she's been away for so many years.

_You better take a fool's advice  
And take care of your own_

She's at McCoy's office tonight, as a matter of fact, wrapping up the paperwork on the case.  I hope they finish up quickly and traffic doesn't slow her down; we're going to an office party tonight and I'm trying to make partner.  Our business is all about inspiring confidence, and an associate with a lovely, well-dressed, intelligent wife by his side inspires more confidence in the senior partners than one standing awkwardly on his own.

I'm not too worried about Claire being late.  She knows how important this dinner is, and she wants me to make partner as much as I do.  Her encouragement and her support are a big part of what's brought me this close to partnership in the first place.

It's ironic that just when I was avoiding women in order to make something of myself in my career, I found a woman who helped me get farther ahead than I ever could have gotten alone.  In my career, and in my life in general.

It's funny how things can turn out sometimes.


End file.
